


Falling in Loaf

by Diakkomass 2020 (Diakkomass20xx), kayr0ss



Series: Diakkomass 2020 [11]
Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Baker!Akko, Bread, Businesswoman!Diana, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Eve, Cookies, F/F, Falling In Love, croissant - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28022913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diakkomass20xx/pseuds/Diakkomass%202020, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayr0ss/pseuds/kayr0ss
Summary: For the 12th day of Diakkomass we are bringing you a story by Kayross with art by Sploot! In Falling in Loaf, Diana is tasked with making sure her company’s yearly Christmas party goes smoothly. Nevertheless, after meeting Akko, a baker with a big heart and love for the holiday season, Diana finds herself learning from the brunette the true meaning of the holiday. One sweet at a time.
Relationships: Diana Cavendish/Atsuko "Akko" Kagari
Series: Diakkomass 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034991
Comments: 36
Kudos: 149
Collections: Diakko Fics w/ AU's, Diakko favorites





	Falling in Loaf

[ ]()

Everything _had_ to go perfectly.

It didn’t matter that Diana thought these affairs were tiresome at best and grossly insincere at worst, she would put aside her opinion and get the job _done_. Perfectly. It was with this level of meticulousness that she poured over the latest issue of _London Events & Lifestyle _with the intention of picking out the perfect motif for the annual Cavendish Holiday Soiree. The clock on her wall read eight in the evening—the ache in her back told her it was time to go home. She took no delight in the fact that she was once again stuck in her office late into the evening working. 

And yes—to her, this Christmas party was just another job to be done.

She flipped a page, eyebrows creasing.

‘Eighties’ might work. There’s been a resurgence of eighties-themed music and pop culture of late and it definitely appealed to their family’s older associates, but a ‘roaring twenties’ themed event—with all its decadence and luxury—might better appeal to the palate of London’s elite. She tapped her perfectly-manicured fingernails against the hardwood of her desk, leaning back in contemplation. This should have _really_ been decided for before December started, but now was not the right time for ‘should-have-beens’. She had full trust that the Events and Logistics Committee would be able to make it happen flawlessly.

She looked over the spreadsheet displayed on her computer screen. The guestlist was practically the same every year, give or take a few additions and subtractions. It was a generations-old tradition and responsibility whose original purpose was to reinforce ties between allied noble houses, although somewhere down the line it had turned into a corporate affair.

Much like most things in modern society—Christmas included.

She closed the magazine, squinting into her computer screen to find the elusive ‘Save As’ button before folding it closed. It seemed that even her life had turned into a corporate affair—stuck in the confines of an office that looked too pristine for her tastes, too perfect to feel lived-in. This office used to have a little more life in it once, but Aunt Daryl had insisted on redecorating once her mother passed away. It was now a tasteful combination of glass and brushed metal, with furniture in hues of white and gray. At least when she looked outside her floor-to-ceiling window she could see that the city looked alive. Surely the coming party would just be another reflection of this: perfect but sterile. 

_Empty_.

But despite this, there was just one little detail about the party which Diana would allow herself to micromanage:

The pastries.

* * *

How many times could a woman lose a _goddamn_ measuring cup, she could _swear_ it was right by the mixer the last time she looked! It seems to have decided to sprout legs and walk away from its humble life in this bakery because—

“Boss!”

—her (admittedly) dramatic train of thought was cut off by her baking assistant, who was holding up her elusive ½ measuring cup with an amused smirk. “Stop removing ‘em from the rings, they’re just going to keep getting lost.”

“They’re so cumbersome though!” Akko whined, gratefully accepting the cup so that the baking soda could finally find its new home among other dry ingredients. “They get all clackity against each other and shit.”

She was baking bread. Banana bread, to be particular. It was for the birthday of a grandmother, ordered by a loving grandchild who had the fondest grin on his face as she told her that, “gran loves her coffee!” And so she had taken that fondness to heart and did her best pour it through her hands and into the batter; mixing in the love he had so freely spoken with. Banana bread with a lot of love and little coffee, made _just_ for ‘gran.’ 

Akko Kagari loved baking. 

Akko Kagari loved Christmas. 

And so, flying half-way across the world to open a small, intimate bakery in the heart of a suburban English town that _snowed_ in the holiday season was definitely nothing short of a dream-come-true for her. And baking _during_ the Christmas season was a treat in itself—customers were always a little nicer, and the aesthetic of snow falling lightly outside the window of her shop contrasted wonderfully with the warmth of her oven.

This loaf of banana bread— _for gran_ —was just one of many treats that were beginning to pile-up on her order list. She’d be asked for an assortment of cookies, chocolate croissants, pies and even tarts, but the star of the show were always the puff pastries. They were a favorite for her to make: so laborious yet fulfilling. There was simply no way to cut corners when it came to making them and they were so finnicky that the smallest change in the baker’s emotions could be felt in the dough. Perhaps they might knead it too hard with a heart heavy with frustration—or treated with patience and gentleness while thinking of sweet nothings for a loved one or two.

And yes—she was probably going to be overworked for the next couple of weeks, but it was okay. 

She really, _really_ liked baking during the Christmas season.

* * *

For all of its glistening reviews and recommendations, the Shiny Bakery seemed awfully… small. 

It was the last shop Diana would visit, but it was also the nearest. The store was no more than just another shop along Blytonbury avenue which shared commercial space with a café to its left, and bookstore to the right. The building it was in looked older than most, with a red brick exterior and white, concrete accents. The store’s signage didn’t stand out—Diana had some trouble spotting it the first time around—but there was a comfort that it exuded which drew her towards it. The windowed door looked aged in the sense that it was often used but well-maintained, and it had a large bay window with pastries displayed along the bottom ledge from the inside. Shade was provided by a typical red-and-white striped awning that rang along the entirety of the store front. Despite it being her first time visiting this area, let alone this shop, the tasteful weathering of time and overgrown plants along the front made it look familiar.

_Inviting._

Diana could see the mellow glow of warmth while looking in through the window. She walked briskly towards the door, breath coming out in puffs of mist in the cold December weather, and stepped in through the doorway. The bell rang overhead, but it barely registered in her senses over the immediate appeal of the smell of butter and something savory.

“Hello?” She called out gently, stomping away the snow underneath her boots by the doormat. The interior was a wonderful complement to how it looked outside, thought it _did_ look a little disorganized. A third of the walls, by the bottom, had panels of wood running along it, but the rest of it was brick. There was an assortment of art that hung from them—some were photos of three friends, some seemed to be of family. She could recognize a few East Asian motifs but the rest were trinkets that had no common theme: license plates, wooden fish carvings, a spattering of holiday décor and a framed poster of a pixelated blue pickaxe. The space was a bit cramped; there were shelves that had packaged bread ready for pick-up, while a longer counter held the register and a backlit display of pastries. Some looked to be croissants filled with chocolate, while others were savory puff pastries filled with meat, cheese and herbs. It was, once again, a little off her expectations. But it was pleasant, nonetheless. Perhaps this was what others described as ‘homey’? 

She walked to the counter and rang the bell. Its high-pitched echo mixed in with the sleighbells from an outdated radio in the corner humming out a Christmas song.

She rang it another time and was met with no response. Diana crossed her arms, unimpressed. This was turning out to be a poor customer service experience, and no amount of charming interior would make up for that, if she could say so herself! She huffed out through her nose, just about to turn and walk back into the snow, but then—

“Lady!” 

A woman with brown hair had burst out from the industrial door behind the counter, nearly dropping her tray of freshly-baked goods and ramming into the glass display case. “ _Kuso!_ ” she hissed, steadying herself against the counter. She looked disheveled, donning a maroon apron that was powdered with flour. It looked like she was saying something, quite urgently too, but Diana had to take a minute to register the fact that she materialized out of nowhere and that—

—well… her eyes were the most peculiar shade of red.

The woman gestured towards as though to say ‘hello?’

Diana blinked, shaking her head. “Pardon?”

“I said,” the woman heaved, looking weary, “I’m sorry, I’m understaffed today so you’ll have to wait.”

“Excuse me?” Diana scrunched up her nose, recovering. It was almost unheard of that the customer was asked to _wait._ “I’d like to speak to the manager.”

To her surprise, the shorter woman had straightened out her posture, rolled her eyes, and then sighed. “Christ you’re one of _those_.”

“One of—?”

“You’re tough outta luck, lady.” She put out her thumb and pointed at herself. “I’m the _owner_.”

Diana blinked, just about convinced that _yes_ , she was _definitely_ going to head back out, but the woman was already walking around the counter, beckoning to her with a casualness she might have used for a friend.

“It’s freezing out, and I’ll just be minute!” The owner reassured. “My friend Lotte from the bookstore to the right is having a small group-reading session. She doesn’t have enough space to do it in her store, so Sucy from the café lets them take a booth or two.” She held up a tray of what looked to be sausages wrapped in a buttery, flaky crust with cheese and herbs at the top akin to filled croissants. Diana would be lying if she said her mouth didn’t water. “I’m just bringing these little guys over there, I like to leave them pastries every now and then!”

“That’s very generous of you.” Diana said gracefully, unsure why all this information was being so freely offered up to her. 

The owner was smiling at her as though she had completely forgotten the awkwardness of their first meeting. “I’m Akko Kagari, by the way! Or just ‘Akko’, really.”

“Diana Cavendish,” she curtly replied. 

“Well then, Diana.” Akko held up the tray, grinning. “Try one?”

She paused for a moment, expecting to at least be handed a napkin, but when she realized there would be none she went ahead and picked up a piece. It was still pleasantly warm to the touch.

At the first bite, her eyes fluttered closed and she sighed through her nose.

The crust was perfectly done—puffed out and crisp outside, rich and buttery inside. It worked marvelously with the flavorful cut of meat that was chosen, along with the mixture of basil, parsley and cheese. It made her think of Christmas songs at her childhood home, of her mother’s baking, of finding snacks in the kitchen while holiday lights lit up the interior of their home, of how pretty the pastry shop’s owner’s smile was, and of—

_Wait._

Diana blinked.

_What?_

* * *

“So the Noir Bread Box is a no?” Hannah looked up from her clipboard, sitting comfortably on Diana’s office ouch.

“Most definitely. I no longer wish to engage in any sort of business with Meridies.”

“Understandable.” There was an audible strike-out with a pen. “Jollibread?”

“The mascot was unnerving.”

Another strike. “Étalez ce Petit Pain?”

That last one made Diana pinch the bridge of her nose. “No, I don’t want to buy from _‘Spread this Bun’_.”

Hannah snorted. “Creative name.”

“Charmingly so.” Diana said dryly.

“This leaves us with the Shiny Bakery. I’m guessing you liked the visit?”

“It was smaller than I had expected.” Diana admitted, leaning back into her office chair. “The place was understaffed, customer service was horrible at first encounter, and the owner was an insufferable ball of energy.”

“But?” Hannah raised an eyebrow.

“The pastries are… undeniably good.” Diana said somberly, unable to find the right words to describe the sensation of taking that first bite. She could taste how lovingly it was made; how much effort must have gone into making it. “I’ve collected their catalogue and will schedule another trip for samples.”

Hannah looked up in confusion. “You’d rather go than have it delivered?”

“The short walk’s been good for me,” she said dismissively. “Fresh air and all.”

* * *

It was Diana’s second visit to the pastry shop, and she really hoped there wouldn’t be any need for more—this woman had enough energy to give her a headache within two minutes of exposure.

“I’m expecting a sampler of everything in this list.” She said professionally, handing over a neat-looking folder towards Akko who stood at the other side of the counter. “My secretary will be in contact with your office for scheduling of the tasting sessions.”

“Look at you, all business!” Akko grumbled. She set the document down after giving it a quick one-over, sighing exaggeratedly. “How are you this _grumpy_ during Christmas season?”

“Grumpy? Hardly.” She found herself responding with more haughtiness than she expected. Something about this woman pushed her buttons—she was unused to this much push-back. “I’m simply doing what’s expected of me for a work-related affair.”

“You’re buying pastries for _work_?”

“Work _and_ family. It’s a corporate Christmas party, hence my insistence that we do everything _on schedule._ ”

“Sure, sure, schedules.” Akko mumbled, eyebrows creasing. “But who are the pastries _for_?”

Diana pinched the bridge of her nose. “As I’ve said, they’re for _work_ —”

“’Work’ doesn’t have a favorite flavor.” Akko said pointedly. “Work doesn’t have fond memories of their favorite Christmas dinners, or feelings on how the smell of peppermint brings them back to when they were five.” 

“I don’t see how this is relevant to our transaction.” 

Akko looked like she was going to say something, but then pressed her mouth to a thin line and decided against it. “Fine, I’ll work on these and get back to you. Shouldn’t take long.”

“Wonderful.” Diana checked her watch, mindful of the time. There was a marketing meeting by three that she couldn’t afford to be late to. “If that’s all, I’ll be going now.”

“Wait!” The other woman squeaked, comically reaching over the counter to grab at Diana’s arm before she could turn towards the door. 

“What is it?” The blonde replied urgently. She saw that Akko had taken a box of something and was pushing it towards—presumably for her to take? She heard the overhead doorbell ring. Coincidentally, there seems to have been a new customer just coming in.

“Eclairs.” Akko clarified. “On the house.”

“Thank you, but there’s really no need to—”

“ _Mou_ , just take it!” The baker whined in exasperation. “That pretty face could use a goddamn _smile._ ”

* * *

“What was that?” Sucy deadpanned, looking over her shoulder at what seemed to be a visibly red customer of Akko’s, barging out of the bakery with as much dignity as a woman who was nearly huffing out steam could—all while holding a box of eclairs.

Akko had buried her hands in her face. “Don’t ask. I think that was a brain fart moment.”

Sucy snickered. “Flirting with customers?”

“Flirting?” Akko squinted up towards her. “Hell, no. I just can’t figure it out but she makes me all agitated and shit, but at the same time I want to find out what her favorite pastry is and bake it for her?”

Sucy just stared. “I almost cared for a minute there. Anyway, Lotte wants to have coffee.”

* * *

“These are really good.” Hannah whispered to Diana, munching on one of the eclairs she had brought back from the shop. “Scheduling go well?”

Ah.

_Scheduling._

Diana groaned internally, doing her best not to faceplant into the desk in the middle of such an important meeting.

She forgot to exchange contact details.

* * *

As compelled as she was to see ‘Diana’ again—

“Ah, _shit._ ”

—did she really have to pop back in the most unfortunate of times? 

Akko sighed down at the cherry tarts, seeing that her lattice-structure topping was effectively ruined by her startled jerk. She had jumped at the sound of the bell, gasped a little, and squeezed down on the bag as though it was a tube of toothpaste, spattering frosting all over the counter and herself.

“Didn’t even get any on the tarts,” she sighed in disdain, shoulders slumping in defeat. At _least_ she wouldn’t have to bake a whole new batch; the tarts were clear and there was more than enough frosting for another try.

Akko looked up towards her customer, standing dignified in a business suit that was elegant in its simplicity. 

“I see that you’re back.”

Diana met her with an equally challenging stare. She glanced down towards her half-way done attempt at topping off her tarts.

“I see that you’re—” then she faltered, eyes settling down towards the tray of sweet pastries before visibly relaxing. “I apologize,” she said, much to Akko’s surprise.

It was a little cute, and the realization of it made her feel self-conscious of the fact that she was covered in frosting.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Diana continued, stepping towards the side-counter where Akko had been working. She was expecting the same unimpressed and haughty woman she first met, but it seems the few days between their first meeting and now had softened her stiffer exterior. 

Akko watched as Diana reached towards a box of napkins. She looked… tired. 

Tired, and not much older than herself and yet carrying a weight heavier than she’d care to admit. Akko was unused to it—most of her customers would stroll in with a spark in their eyes and always left with an exaggerated sense of holiday cheer.

But Diana, who had began to diligently help her get frosting out of the side-counter (that she wasn’t even supposed to be working on!), had an air of obligation about her. She didn’t know what stirred her towards it, but Akko shook her head and crossed her arms. That wouldn’t do. No sir, there would be no moping in _her_ pastry shop—especially so near Christmas!

“How long have you got?”

Diana blinked. “Pardon?”

“Free time, that is.”

“I’m really just here to for—”

“No, no, it’s the end of the day.” It was a long shot, and Akko wasn’t even sure _why_ she was asking it, but goodness knows that baking always made her feel better when she was feeling down and out. “Want to learn how to pipe out frosting?”

* * *

“You are infuriatingly good at this.” 

Akko narrowed her eyes, watching as Diana piped out the tart frosting, criss-crossing as instructed without so much as a quiver. She didn’t expect for Diana to actually say _yes_ when she asked her, but here they were, pulled to side of the shop and both donning aprons. For a moment she saw a spark in her mysteriously blue eyes—excitement and anticipation. Perhaps this was an old hobby of hers, buried away? 

Akko looked up at her temporary baking partner. “You have really steady hands.”

“I wanted to be a surgeon,” she said off-handedly.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Familial affairs.”

“Huh.” Akko blinked in surprise. She chuckled. “Back where I come from, families liked to talk you _into_ becoming a doctor and not out of it.”

“Did your parents expect you to become one?”

“They expected me to be happy.” Akko said as though it was obvious, eyes focused on the tarts but mind wandering back to a little home in Japan with two loving parents who both loved to cook. “And kinda let me figure out how to get there on my own.”

“I see.” Diana said quietly.

“They could see I loved it though! As cheesy as that might sound.” Akko nodded to herself. “And I try to do that with everything I do. Like these tarts, for example.”

Diana paused her ministrations to look up and listen. “They’re for one of my usuals and I know that she likes her tarts a little sweeter than usual, and one time, she had mentioned off-handedly that her favorite aunt topped off her childhood sweets in a lattice pattern.”

“And so you’ve gone out of your way to accommodate it.”

“I wouldn’t really say it’s out of my way—that’s just really how I want to get things done, y’know?” 

Akko grinned at her, and it was bright and open and from the looks of the corner of Diana’s mouth… contagious.

“So how about you?”

“Me?”

“What do _you_ love?”

* * *

Diana walked back towards the office building hiding a little smile on her face. The blanket of snow that covered the street was thicker now; the lights were more evident as the sun continued to set into the night. She ended up staying much longer than she had anticipated—and being the slightest bit off-of-schedule excited her a little.

She watched a young family look through the window of a toy shop, the toddler son pressing his hands flush against the cold glass while smiling at a set of building blocks. The father was already talking his wife into buying it, laughing, and the mother looked right about ready to give in.

It warmed her, but at the same time it ached a little. But for the first time in a _very long_ time she was feeling more than just… nothing.

And then she stopped in her tracks.

_Oh no._

She forgot to leave her contact details _again._

* * *

“Again?” Hannah massaged her temples. “Diana, you _never_ forget things.”

Barbara looked over her book with wide, curious eyes. “Unless you’re forgetting on _purpose_.”

“On purpose?” Diana frowned. As if she’d ever! “I don’t see the point of forgetting something _on purpose_.”

“I could think of a couple of things.” Barbara started with a sly smile. “Starting with ‘the baker I want to hire for our Christmas party is my type’, followed by—”

“Do _not._ ” 

“Oh, Barbara.” Hannah laughed, catching on. “Please _do._ I love that, that’s some Hallmark channel movie material right there.”

“You’re even flushing pink!” Barbara snickered.

“I am _not._ ”

She was.

She hated it a little.

* * *

It’s been a few days, and for the life of her Akko could _not_ get this woman out of her head. She hasn’t been able to stop—much to the dismay of her coworkers—but there was a mystery to her. Melancholy in her words, but hope in the way her blue eyes sparkled at the thought of doing something as simple as baking.

Maybe if she clonked herself with a rolling pin it’d stop. She could ask Lotte. Yeah. Lotte would do it—she has a good batting stance.

“I just can’t figure her out.” Akko grumbled out loud, leaning back against the counter. “Like, usually it takes just a little bit of conversation for me to get to know what the customer might want but when I ask her to talk about this big party I get… nothing!”

“Maybe she doesn’t really care about it that much?” Lotte, who was dropping by to visit, pondered aloud. “I mean, from what I gather this is just another work thing for her.”

“But it’s a _Christmas_ party, Lotte!”

“Yes, but for their _company._ ”

“And family, too!”

“Don’t you think you’re fixating on this one client a bit too much?” Lotte gently offered, trying to sound as soothing as she could.

Whatever reply Akko had in store was cut off by the overhead bell. Akko looked over her shoulder to greet the new customer but stopped in her tracks. “You!”

And maybe Akko’s heart began to race a little faster, but that was probably just the excitement of having her come up at the most coincidental of moments.

Diana blinked at her in confusion. “Yes?”

“Back so soon!”

“I forgot to leave the proper channels for contact with you.” The other woman said professionally. “And I have a new set from the catalogue which I’d like to try.” She walked towards Akko, endorsing another folder. “We could probably squeeze in a few more tasting sessions.”

“Sounds good!” Akko said absentmindedly, already squinting down towards the list. “Two savory empanadas, custard tarts, toffee brunch biscuits—wow. This goes on even further than the first list, must be some party.”

“Will the load be manageable for you?”

“We’ll be fine,” Akko waved reassuringly. “Christmas season is always peak season. Oh but wait—” Akko blinked eagerly towards Lotte. “It’s lunch time! Where do we go? Want to get sushi?”

Lotte simply chuckled apologetically, already anticipating Akko’s next move.

“How about you, Diana, have you had lunch?”

“I—”

“Come on, join us there’s a sushi spot nearby!” Akko was already untying her apron’s knot at her back. “I’d give my left pinky toe to find a good sushi spot around these parts, but I can’t complain when I’m half-way around the world can I?”

Diana nearly looked affronted. “Surely there are passable establishments—”

Akko set her foot down and shook her head.

“I mean no offense to you English people _but_ _I swear on my ancestors your Asian food is_ —”

“Akko!” Lotte cut out, nearly flushing red from embarrassment. “Come on, let’s just go!”

* * *

Diana sat awkwardly at the booth of a corner sushi store, sharing lunch with two women who were her acquaintances at best. 

Everything had happened so fast that she didn’t even get the chance to decline. But of course, she was raised with more etiquette than to be rude while sharing a meal with others, and so she quietly worked her way through her plate of (as Akko had put it) substandard sushi. And _yes_ , if she were to be honest there was probably a much better sushi joint out there—but this was a whole new experience to her. They were in a small shop lit by off-white fluorescent lights that had floors lined with linoleum. There was an awkward spattering of holiday décor. An old radio sat in the corner, playing old Japanese Christmas songs. 

They were just having lunch. For once, there were no appearances to keep and she liked that.

Her train of thought was cut-off by a roll of sushi hovering across her face. 

“Try it!” Akko beamed.

“Excuse me?” She blinked, unsure of how to process the stimulus. Was she being chopstick-fed sushi by the baker she wanted to hire for their party?

“I said take a bite!”

Ah. Yes, she was. 

In any case she took the bite anyway.

“Well?” Akko look at her expectantly.

“It’s… very sushi-like.”

Akko stared at her for a minute, as if to let her ineloquent description sink in. And then she began to outright laugh.

It was a lovely sound to hear. Full and unconstrained, and so unapologetic that she wondered if this woman had lived all her life with the freedom to laugh whenever and wherever she felt like it.

“Well, you’re not wrong there.” Akko took another bite for herself. Her laughter softened to a gentle smile. “And it’s nice to see that you actually know how to _laugh_ , even just a little bit.”

She was laughing?

“But it seems I’ve dragged you away from your schedule again, and I’m starting to feel bad that you keep having to walk back here.”

Diana was about to object, but the brunette interjected.

“But right! Contact details.” Akko offered. “Let me know where I can send photo samples as I make them, and you can revert to me with what you think or what you’d prefer. We would also be able to work around scheduling easier.”

That was a reasonable offering. Diana pulled out her phone—the corporate email should be fine.

“Here’s my number, then.”

That was not her corporate email.

“Thanks!” Atusko grinned. “Here’s mine!”

* * *

It was photos of pastries for the first few days, but it didn’t take long until the ‘pings’ in her inbox turned into what were apparently ‘memes.’

* * *

**18:57 Akko Kagari (Bakery):** Do you have any pets?

 **18:58 Diana Cavendish** : This isn’t pastry-related. But yes, I have a cat. His name is Toby, although I’m expecting to be adopting another one in the near future.

 **18:59 Akko Kagari (Bakery):** oh My god can i see???????

 **18:59 Akko Kagari (Bakery):** also that’s such a cute name, can I suggest some for the new ones

 **18:59 Akko Kagari (Bakery):** barry, jasmine, zelda—uh. Mister Louie? Pip. Nugget. Oh god I love chicken nuggets

**19:00** **_Diana Cavendish has sent a photo_ **

**…**

**…**

**…**

**_14 Unread Messages from Akko Kagari (Bakery)_ ** ****

* * *

By the time she was due to visit the bakery for their first taste test, the so-called ‘memes’ had turned into good mornings and goodnights.

Diana wasn’t sure what she was so excited about: the chance to get out of the office building, the thought of a delectable pastry sampler to try out, or the fact that Akko had texted her a bubbly ‘ _See u tomorrow!_ ’

* * *

The agenda for today’s meeting was the savory empanadas. 

Akko had presented Diana with a tray of them in three different flavors—chicken, beef, and pork _asado._ They were masterfully made, with a pastry crust that glistened in egg wash and was pleasantly crispy at the edge where they were pinched together. It was thick enough that the light and buttery flavor stood out against the strong presence of the meat—it was filling, but not enough to ruin dinner or leave one bloated.

“I call this the ‘Ho Ho Ho Empanada Platter’.” Akko crossed her arms smugly.

“I’m going to assume you’re joking.”

“Not at all!” Akko replied indignantly. “Three different flavors, three ‘ho’s.”

Diana took a deep breath. “ _Please_ rethink your product name choices. That’s nearly as bad as the place that called themselves _Étalez ce Petit Pain_.”

“That sounds fancy!”

“It means ‘Spread this Bun’”

Akko snorted in laughter. “Shit. I love that even more!”

“In any case, the… Empanada Platter—No, don’t look at me like that I am _not_ calling it that—as I was saying, I think we can go with the chicken and the pork. We’re already serving beef for dinner.”

“Good plan.” Akko agreed.

Diana leaned back on her chair, looking around the bakery’s state of affairs. As the days dwindled closer to Christmas, the pile of boxes and orders grew taller and taller. They were in an assortment of reds and greens, all with golden ribbons to wrap them together. Michael Buble and Mariah Carey were battling each other for dominance—and for once Diana didn’t mind at all.

“You really love the season, don’t you?” Diana found herself asking quietly.

“It reminds me of being back home. Building snowmen with my mom and cooking up hot chocolate with my dad.” Akko paused in soft contemplation. “Did you know the first time I ever baked was because I wanted to give them a Christmas gift?” She relayed fondly. “I didn’t have money as a kid, but I sure as hell could _make_ something!”

“Did they like how it tasted?”

“I doubt it.” Akko laughed. “But they loved how it was made.”

“How is that different?”

“I poured everything I ever loved about them into the cookies, and unfortunately that meant too many chocolate chips and marshmallows. I loved the smell of peppermint, too! But that didn’t work out the way I had thought it would.” She sighed, eyes glazing over in nostalgia. She went on to ramble on about how she loved 80s music and silly sweaters. “That’s why I ask people to tell me about themselves or their loved ones when they walk into this shop. So I could do the same thing as I did then—even just a little bit.”

“I see.”

“And that’s why _you_ have got me stuck in such a stump.” Akko admitted gently. “I get the impression this party isn’t something you’re really feeling, you know?”

“When are corporate affairs ever pleasant?” Diana laughed dryly. “But I did enjoy baking, when I was much younger.”

Akko kept silent, giving her the space to continue.

“My mother and I would make tarts. Strawberry ones, with sweet frosting at the top. She was quite good at it—baking, that is—and took a little time off her schedule to make me something every now and then. Especially during this season.”

Akko was taken back to the earlier days, remembering how tender her eyes grew at the sight of her nearly-ruined batch of tarts; how reverently she had handled the piping bag while laying out the frosting. “Were they your favorite?”

“Mhmm,” Diana admitted. “And it’s been a long while since.”

Akko listened attentively as Diana displayed what were likely carefully-guarded memories, gripped with an urge to bake strawberry tarts like never before.

* * *

“So 80s seems to have won at the last minute.” Hannah commented, reviewing Diana’s revised proposal. “I actually like it, nothing like dancing to Tears for Fears and Fleetwood Mac while buzzed on eggnog.” 

There was only around two weeks left before the party, and final preparations were coming in fast.

“And the tree? They’re asking what kind of color scheme to fit it out with.” Barbara piped in.

“Red.” Diana said automatically.

“Red and gold,” Hannah nodded in approval. “Classy yet festive.”

* * *

“And then you cut,” Akko instructed, looking over Diana’s shoulder while the taller woman worked with the buttery dough. “Perfect. And fold.”

Less than two weeks before the party, Diana was back in the bakery.

“This is good?”

“Yes. And then do it again, but from the other direction. No, no—” Akko moved in, moving Diana’s deft hands by the wrist to the adjacent edge of the flattened dough. “—right _here._ Another cut and fold.”

“Another?”

“Oh you’re in for a ride.” Akko laughed. “You have to fold that little guy up like a thousand times.”

Diana was learning how to make _napoleones._ It was apparently a derivative of _mille feuilles_ but adapted by the local communities near where Akko’s friend Sucy had grown up in. It wasn’t in the sampler list Diana had prepared, but it piqued her interest from behind the display the last time she visited—she took one bite and the rest was history. They were tiny, flaky bars which looked much like books with a thousand little (edible) pages. It was filled with custard and topped off with a thick, sugary glaze.

So simple, yet so appealing.

And so what was supposed to be another taste testing session had morphed into some sort of impromptu baking lesson. To her credit, Diana _did_ do her best to pay attention during the session—but the fact of the matter was that Akko hadn’t disappointed her in every trial. If anything, she was more confused than confident with which of products to commit to. 

Akko had glowed with eagerness the moment Diana had began to share her thoughts on the dish, and suddenly the blonde found herself a little self-conscious. It wasn’t often that someone paid attention to such trivial ramblings. How interesting could her fascination with a certain pastry be?

“I like that you said they were like books!” Akko enthused, and this served to answer her internal questioning. Apparently, it _could_ be pretty interesting to the right person. “I’m guessing that you’re fond of reading?”

“I think that’s one of the foremost things I enjoy doing, to be honest.” Another cut. Then together, they pulled on the dough to bring it over for a fold.

“Me too!” Akko beamed. “Kinda? Well, I like reading manga if that counts.”

“Of course, it counts.” Diana said pointedly. She picked up some flour and dusted it over the flattened dough to prepare it for yet another fold. “Why wouldn’t it?”

“Not gonna lie. I had the impression you were gonna be the kind of super snobby type who only reads—I dunno—Tolstoy or something.” The baker giggled. “What a relief to know there’s _some_ humanity within the perfect corporate exterior!”

Diana rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like I have no idea how to have fun.”

The other woman gasped dramatically, dropping the dough to stare at her in utter shock. “You _actually_ know the word ‘fun’?”

_Huh._

Diana tossed a handful of flour to Akko’s face.

* * *

The kitchen timer began beeping, barely audible over the sound of one woman’s boisterous laughter, and another’s grumbling.

“The _napoleones_ are done.” Akko said breathlessly, smiling while she took cover behind the automatic bread kneader.

“I’m covered in flour,” Diana lamented.

“And I—” 

Akko giggled, emerging from her hiding spot to walk right up to Diana and cup her face, floury hands and all. 

“—have never heard you laugh that much before.”

* * *

There was only a week left before Christmas eve, but even less of Diana’s patience. Her events staff were running amok, missing deadlines left and right and dropping bookings faster than flies around a candle. Such were the challenges of project management, she supposed, but perhaps she needed to distance herself from the team and allow for the delegation process to happen smoothly—she could imagine that they’d be a little unnerved having her breathe down their necks, watching the Gantt chart with the eyes of a hawk ready to claw at every missed deadline.

All things considered, it was actually going quite well. She was just… anxious. 

It was the same every year, and Hannah and Barbara were used to it. Their involvement in the yearly party had something to do with this and allowed Diana to give herself some space during the height of all the rushing and last-minute preparations. 

She couldn’t stand another round of Aunt Daryl’s off-hand comments on what could have been done better, or sly remarks on how well her efforts are reflecting the Cavendish name. Her mother had given so much— _too much_ —to keep this name in good standing, and this party, for what it was worth, was the epitome of flaunting all this status and hard work.

But she hated it. 

The spectacle and all the pretending and—and how little time she got to spend with her family during the holiday season because of all the work and— _how mother pushed herself too much, too hard—_

“Diana.” Barbara laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, voice soft and reassuring. “I think you might want to step out for some air? Take a walk? I could go with you.”

She was probably right, but she’d be poor company at the moment. “Thank you. I think I’d rather go alone.”

Hannah and Barbara shared a worried glance but left her to it.

* * *

“Everything okay?” 

Diana turned, startled by a relatively foreign voice to her right. She looked over to find a smaller blonde woman with wide spectacles and freckles. She remembered that they had shared quite an interesting lunch break some time ago.

“Lotte,” she nodded curtly. She looked back towards the bakery, hands shoved into the pockets of her coat. “I see that Akko’s closed for the day.”

“She’s taken half the day off to prepare for our little Christmas eve gathering.”

“You celebrate together?” Diana inquired. 

“Yup. Sucy, Akko and I—we all come from faraway.” Lotte looked up towards the little red building they shared. “See that second floor? That’s a flat we share, with three rooms and everything. We’ve known each other for ages and thought it was a deal made in heaven to find this place, you know.”

“You three really seem to be living the life you’d like.” Diana said with no small amount of longing.

“It isn’t easy, but we appreciate it even more because of it.” Lotte smiled. “Would you like to come upstairs and have a look?”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Knowing Akko, she’d be absolutely delighted.”

* * *

Lotte was right. Akko was absolutely delighted.

So much so that she had fussed over Diana endlessly, and sent Lotte off on a mission to prepare hot chocolate while she kept Diana entertained in the living area. But all her energy had died out when she saw that Diana couldn’t quite keep up. There was something bearing down her—that same weight on her shoulders.

“Want to talk about it?” Akko offered. “It’s okay if you don’t.”

“And what might have lead you to believe there was something I needed to talk about?” Diana said defensively.

“I’m not going to pry.” Akko placated with her hands up. “But Lotte said she found you moping out in the snow, so go figure.”

“I was _not_ moping.”

Akko grinned. “Uhuh.”

Her long-winded attempt at making Diana smiled worked—and she had no idea why. 

They sat together in silence for a minute or two. The brunette had decided to make a move to hold her hand, brushing it reassuringly to let her know that she was there. It felt warm and right. Diana fought back the urge to lean a little closer.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“I look around me at this time of the year, and all I want is to… _feel_ what everyone else seems to be feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“The joy that a little boy feels when his family walks into a toy store, the way that a group of people cheer when their favorite Christmas song comes up.”

She looked towards Akko, thinking about the little moments they shared since she first stepped into the bakery. “The way you pour everything you’ve got when you bake for others.”

Diana scanned the interior of Akko’s shared home. It was a mixture of their tastes, all three of them, with no coherent theme other than ‘bricks’ and a wall covered in memories. There were polaroid pictures in corkboards above a cardboard box of baking pans. One wall—Lotte’s area?—was stuffed with books, while Sucy’s coffee bar was a worrisome mix of test tubes and instruments. Why did they have toxicity symbols on them? Never mind, she wasn’t going to ask.

“Even this home overflows with it, and it’s just out of reach for me.”

It was very lonely, despite her having everything one might need in life.

“I… well.” Akko looked a bit small and lost for words, and Diana couldn’t blame her.

“I didn’t mean to unload all of that on you.”

“I don’t mind, and it’s not unloading.”

“But—”

“You never did answer what I asked you before.”

“What you asked me?”

“What do you love?”

“I—”

As soon as she felt the slow rising of emotions and long-buried memories, Diana had violently shut it down. It was a practiced move, emotions were dangerous territory and inefficient for one that had too many things to worry about and—

“Take your time.” Akko reassured, grip firm in her hand.

“I love strawberry tarts, the way my mother made them.” She said in breathy whisper. “And books, especially Apple Valley Year. It’s a story about apple-pickers in a small town,” she said, voice quivering while she chuckled. “It talks about picking apples through the season. I like books on Psychology, and reading Brandon Sanderson.”

“Mhmm?”

“I don’t like peppermint.”

“I forgive you.” Akko paused. “I think.”

Diana laughed quietly. “I… do like cinnamon. Cinnamon rolls are my favorite, Anna would prepare them for me all the time. They made me feel better, especially when my mom—”

Her voice had finally cracked, and Akko prepared the floodgates to burst open.

“—I miss her.” Diana said quietly. “Especially during this season. Especially during this party. And I want it to be perfect for her but I hate it cause it’s been so different since she left. I don’t see the _point_ of it all and, I—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Akko cooed.

“—and I want to _feel_ so many things again, but the way things now… at least even if I can’t feel happy I don’t get hurt, either.”

* * *

Diana had fallen asleep on her shoulder.

“I’m guessing the hot chocolate is ready?” Akko whispered towards Lotte.

“It’s been ready for a about an hour but there was no _way_ was going to walk in on that.”

“Thank you.” Akko said sincerely.

“I’m glad she got to talk that out.” 

“Me too.” She looked down at Diana’s sleeping figure, tired but finally— _finally_ —at ease. She wrapped her arm around her the slightest bit tighter, determined to stay at her side for as long as she was needed. 

“Tomorrow I’m going to bake so many goddamn cinnamon rolls.”

* * *

“You know I’m really starting to enjoy this mysterious supply of pastries you’ve been getting.” Hannah said, picking out another one of Diana’s cinnamon rolls. “Makes me think this more personal than just a business transaction with the local baker.”

“It is.” Diana replied smoothly. She had never felt so relieved in her life before, and she knew exactly why. The local baker had wormed her way into her life without her noticing and it was too late to push her away. Not that she’d want to. “It’s _very_ personal this time, and I have every intention of repaying in full.”

“Wait.” Barbara gawked. “What?”

Hannah’s eyes were sparkling with glee. “Are you seriously going to—? Oh my god.”

“Do you two mind helping with the final guestlist? There are few new ones I wanted to add, but I was hoping to take the evening off.”

They had scrambled to agree so fast that it warmed her heart. 

She loved them both—her best friends—and if it took facing all the hurt to finally feel this love—then it was worth it.

* * *

“Diana?”

Akko was surprised to see her today. She’d typically be informed ahead of time of any visits and their respective agenda, and at this hour no less. Akko wiped down her hands, moving towards the counter where Diana waited patiently. 

“Can I help you with anything? Oh shit. Did I forget something? I did, didn’t I. Although I’m pretty sure we don’t have the last session until—”

“Akko,” Diana greeted gently— _tenderly_. “You didn’t forget anything.”

“Oh.” That was a relief! “Whew!”

“I should have let you know a bit earlier, and I hope this is a good time.”

Diana looked uncharacteristically nervous, fidgeting with the cuff of her blazer while looking subtly to the side. But then her shoulder visibly relaxed, and with one smooth breath, she looked right towards to Akko.

“I… uh. Know a good sushi place for dinner?”

* * *

“ _Almost_ as good as the motherland’s.” Akko grinned up at Diana, standing at the doorway of her bakery. “And thank you for walking me back here. I’m a bit worried about you—it’s getting dark _and_ cold.”

“There’s just no pleasing you is there?” Diana laughed. “Did you at least enjoy the dinner.”

“Most definitely.” Akko nodded sagely. “So much so that I’m inclined to do it again.”

“Not for transactional business purposes, I hope.”

“Hey—look who’s talking! You were the one who walked into my shop in a blazer asking for the manager.”

Diana huffed indignantly. “You asked me to wait so forcibly, I was left feeling rather vexed.”

“Good thing I make a rad-ass bunch of pigs in a blanket.”

“That’s what those were called?”

Akko laughed, delighted to see the utter confusion on Diana’s face. 

“I was meaning to ask,” Diana said carefully. “If you’d like to attend the party you’ve been working so hard to cater for.”

The brunette looked hesitant. “Your supermega fancy Christmas soiree?” 

“Yes. I was thinking you might enjoy it—the food and all the decorations are _wonderful_ and—” 

And having her there would make it so much more meaningful. 

She realized she was asking for something more than where they might have been—whatever this was—but Diana felt with absolute certainty that she’d love for her to be there.

Akko stepped forward and took Diana’s hands. “You know, despite how grumpy you are I think you’ve grown on me.” She smiled somberly. “But I think I’ll have to say no.”

Diana blinked, confused.

“I’ve got Sucy—and I’ve got Lotte.” She squeezed Diana’s hands. “And you’re welcome as well, but I think Christmas to me is being in silly socks and sweaters watching Home Alone with my loved ones for the seventh year in a row.”

She didn’t understand, but her lips had moved on their own. “I see.”

“ _Hey._ Diana?” 

“I understand,” she reassured while straining to smile. “It’s okay.”

She stepped away, bidding Akko good evening, and politely said goodbye. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling—but her stomach was heavy in more ways than one.

* * *

Akko had been awake for what was probably twenty-four hours by now. She was cutting, folding, rolling, dusting, seasoning—ah. She remembered now, _this_ is why she swore off corporate orders back in twenty-eighteen. Thankfully she had good help during this season, a college football varsity jock who had the resiliency of a bear, and a competitive tennis player with strong arms for kneading. Why were they working for a bakery during Christmas? She had no idea. But she welcomed the help and wasn’t going to complain any time soon.

And despite the erratic work hours—she was baking for someone she had grown to care about.

So maybe she had added a small batch of cinnamon sticks here, and a bit more strawberry in the sweet fruit tarts the way the blonde would love it. She was a bit worried over her decision to decline the invitation—but the best she could for now was deliver best results.

And so she baked on, and on, and on. 

Batch by batch meticulously inspected, lovingly made. Not for the guests for whom she had little care—but for Diana.

* * *

Five hours before the party, Diana found herself in their manor’s kitchen. 

She’s barely visited these days, and the last time she had ever held a baking pan and wooden spoon in her own home was… years past, in better days. Still, she toiled on without much regard for the schedule she had to follow that evening. This small act of rebelliousness was both freeing and anxiety-inducing, but she stuck to the task at hand anyway. 

She squinted through her glasses, bringing up the font of her smart phone which displayed a quick recipe for chocolate chip cookies stolen off of google. “For Dummies” it said, followed by “You Can’t Possible Get this Wrong!”

She shook her arm, finding that it was starting to hurt. Mixing dough was definitely much easier with a machine, but Akko made it look so easy. Akko made everything look so easy—but maybe because she was always smiling while she worked. 

Chocolate chips. Lots and lots, more than what was needed. And maybe a little bit of peppermint? Yes. Despite her disagreement with peppermint—fine, yes. 

She scooped out spoonfulls of the dough, hurriedly rolling them into balls and setting them flat on the buttered pan. 

Was that too much butter? Ah. It was too late now—into the oven it goes.

Diana watched orange the glow of her oven with apprehension.

She wanted to apologize for how rudely she had left. She should have known that _Akko_ of all people would feel as empty as she did in that environment. It was a selfish request to have her come—an attempt to find company in the middle of a party where she was sure she’d feel alone. How could she have thought to take Akko away from where she’d probably be happiest at this time of the year?

Her phone rang—it was her secretary. She was going to be summoned on-site in a few hours and is expected to be ready by now. She looked between the cookies and her phone, heart torn between the first time she had truly felt like herself, and the responsibility she had carried.

Pressed for time and cursing her situation, she picked up her phone and spared one last glance towards the cookies before giving in and walking away. 

* * *

“It’s wonderful!” An elder man in the crispest suit that money could buy nodded in approval, savoring the pastry served to him. “Not quite as classy as what we’re used to, but definitely an experience, don’t you think?”

The Christmas party was now in full-swing—the deals were being made, hands were being shaken, and appearances kept. 

Just as Aunt Daryl would like it. 

She could see staff members rush around behind the scenes, making sure the wine never ran out and the food was kept warm and presentable. Catering staff filed out gracefully from the kitchens, picking up the empty plates of her guests’ entrees and carrying out platters of dessert. 

The food was delightful—but nothing new. Her few moments of excitement were, ironically, the compliments on the pastries than the party itself. 

She glided through the ballroom of the manor, sending out practice smiles and handshakes while posing elegantly for the photo-ops that were more for superficial announcements than memories. 

“Looking wonderful as usual, Miss Cavendish.” A young man smiled politely her way. His name was Rupert, he was a lawyer, and his father had tried to buy fifteen percent of their holdings in the past year. She knew this because she _had_ to; like a general familiar with the tactics and assets of the enemy. She smiled back politely, greeting him happy holidays—modern warfare to the tune of Frank Sinatra’s Christmas classics played by the best jazz quartet they could find in the borough. 

* * *

“I’ll have brownies and dinner ready in an hour!” 

Akko called out, excited at the notion of hot cocoa and eggnog by Sucy and a movie selection by Lotte. She was fluffed up in her reindeer jammies, running downstairs to the bakery’s kitchen to check on the Christmas evening meals she had running. She had finally emptied out all pending deliveries—both big _and_ small. Yes, she was pastry chef—but at the end of the day she was still a _chef_ and she made a pretty mean holiday ham if she could say so herself!

She wondered briefly about Diana. Was she having fun? Probably not. Were the two best friends she had briefly shared about at least there with her?

Should she have gone with her?

She shook her head—everything was still so new. There was time to grow and get to know her more. It’s not like declining her was going to ruin the growth of… whatever this was.

Was it?

* * *

“So I was thinking,” Rupert started off, insistent on maintain a much longer conversation with her than she’d rather have. “Where did you get these magnificent pastries?”

“A local shop, run by a friend.”

“Elusive on your sources, I see.” He grinned with a set of perfect teeth. “Shrewd businesswoman as always. I’m just saying—corporate recommendations could really help this friend of yours out.”

“I think she’d rather keep her business at its size for the moment.”

“Well, don’t speak for her!” He insisted. “Imagine how much more she’d make under good branding and a marketing plan. I’m thinking franchises already.”

“Are you looking for recommendation on where to buy bread, or the next small business to buy in and cannibalize?”

He simply shrugged, spreading his hands. “Where does one end, and the other begin?”

Diana felt the long-dormant bubble of anger grow at the pit of her stomach. And now that she remembers how it was to feel more than nothing—it was sharp and present, and laced her words with venom. 

“I have a feeling that I’ll rethink the finalization of your stock in our company, Attorney Holmes.”

“Excuse me?” He reeled.

“No, excuse _me._ ”

She turned on her heel and never looked back.

* * *

Her little watch in the kitchen read eleven-thirty in the evening, and she was hoping the ham would come out alright before the countdown started. She checked for the temperature in her larger oven, and then looked over to check how the brownies were coming along in the smaller one. 

She leaned back against the counter, pulling out her phone to send a certain someone an advanced greeting for the night.

Surely she’d have time to reply.

Akko waited for a little bit. There was none. She sighed, hoping this wouldn’t put too much of a damper on her evening and jogged back upwards to where Lotte was calling her.

* * *

Did their manor really have to be a thirty-minute drive away from the city? Goodness, Christmas eve was _not_ the best time be called in for a ticket. 

She waited impatiently at an intersection—the road was empty and the red light’s counter was a full minute long. She drummed her finger against the steering wheel. The sleigh bells and Christmas songs were pouring through her car stereo, egging her onwards. 

She took a deep breath, calming herself with thoughts of peppermint and chocolate chips.

* * *

“Ow, ow, ow!” Akko hissed, running awkwardly up the stairs to their flat with a tray of fresh-out-of-the oven ham. 

“Careful!” Lotte watched with trepidation, but thankfully Akko made it to the dining table in time. It was almost complete now! All that was left was the tray of brownies and their intimate countdown could begin in full. It was ten minutes to midnight—her excitement was bubbling!

She still hasn’t heard from Diana, but she should have expected her to busy. 

“Oh!” She was quickly distracted from her thought upon remembering that, “I bought champagne!”

* * *

“This is absolute bollocks.” Diana grunted, moving forward and gearing left once more. And then back, back, back.

Ah. 

Her wheel hit the curb. Once again, she moved the transition box to ‘D’ and exited back to the road.

The bakery was literally across the street from her now, taunting her with the sounds of laugher and shimmering lights.

“I hate parallel parking.” 

* * *

[ ]()

“It’s all set!” Akko grinned, happy with their little holiday dinner spread. Lotte was taking pictures and Sucy was simply eager to get to drinking. “Eight minutes!”

“Let me check that I kept everything off!” The last thing she needed on Christmas eve was a fire in her own kitchen—due diligence goes a long way. “And I’ll bring the brownies up, they should be done now.”

She jumped onto the landing at the bottom of her staircase, slipping on some mittens and shutting off the oven. To her surprise, the familiar sound of her shop’s overhead bell rang. She frowned, wondering _who_ would be coming in for a visit at _this_ hour of the night. She jogged towards the doorway, hesitant of opening for strangers but much too curious to shoo them away. Akko turned to the knob, and was met with… blue.

A pair of somber blue eyes and perfectly done-up hair in blonde.

"Hey."

Akko blinked, feeling her heart-rate shoot up. Oh no. She was in _comfy wear and an apron!_

"Diana?"

"I know it's a bit late at night."

Akko opened her door to let out some light and warmth. 

“And I hope I’m not intruding on anything. Actually, I’ve realized that I probably am.”

Akko, recovering from the shock of seeing her standing tenderly at her doorstep, vigorously shook her head as if to say _no, not at all!_

“I’ve been thinking a lot about things I’ve realized, in this very shop. With a certain fire-y baker. And all this contemplation has led me to the conclusion that I want to live an honest life. A genuine one.”

She stayed still, not daring to interrupt what looked to be Diana opening herself up to a new level of vulnerability. The festive lights of the street glittered from behind her, illuminating her while snow continued to gently float down.

"And I suppose to start that off,” Diana continued, looking down at her feet before locking eyes with Akko once again. “I should be honest with myself.”

She was about to ask what this was all about, and what about her _party_? The responsibility she was putting aside.

“I don’t want to be at that party." 

Diana smiled at Akko. It was so genuine, so sincere, that Akko decided all she wanted for Christmas was for her to smile like that more often. 

“Because this year, for Christmas, _someone_ had reminded me how to feel again.”

The blonde was huddled up in a scarf, looking a bit chilly. The frost was sharp, but everything was so, _so_ —warm. She stood there, in the middle of the street at midnight, leaving behind the glamour and grandeur of her own manor's celebration...

To stand at the doorway of a small bakery downtown on Christmas Eve.

[ ]()

“And I thought being true to my feelings meant accepting the hurt that I never wanted to face, and carrying responsibilities imposed to me through all that pain.” Diana fidgeted with the edges of the box she was carrying, looking down towards her fingers. “But maybe it meant choosing to be where you’d truly be happy. Like what you did, when you turned me down for the party.”

“I’m so—”

“Please don’t apologize for being honest with the both of us.” Diana reassured. “That’s why I—I wanted to be honest to both you and myself too. Sure, the party was— _is_ —important to me. But this evening I just wanted to be… real. To feel things that were simple but genuine, in the way the holiday season is all about.”

Akko felt a sting behind her eyes, but she was still wearing her _damn_ oven mittens! 

Sucy and Lotte were peeking from the upper balcony, playing Silent Night through a stereo as they counted down to Christmas

"They aren't perfect, but..." Diana whispered out with the smallest, dorkiest smile Akko had ever seen. She held up the box—they were cookies. All sorts of crooked, a little burn at the side with an unhealthy heaping of chocolate chips and… peppermint? 

"Merry Christmas, Akko."

They were made with a lot of love. 

Akko was already stepping forward with watering eyes. “Oh, you are such a cheesy idiot.”

Diana was smiling at her, whispering, “I’d rather be with you.”

Akko cupped her face—oven mittens and all—and sealed with a kiss.

[ ]()

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I had a blast writing this - and I'd like to thank unabletoSleep (sleepy) and Tititenis for organizing Diakkomas 2020. It's all coming along so wonderfully and they've been working so hard and I'm so, so proud of them. Thank you Ti, for the wonderful prompts and the organizing! Thank you sleepy for the skins and all the hard work you put every single post. 
> 
> Thank you to splootdoodles who is such a good friend and the ultimate youngest sibling!!! Check them out because they have such GREAT art, as you can see from this Diakkomas post. I'm super honored to get the chance to work with you buddy and what you've made is amazing and I don't have enough words but I always keysmash at you about how good ur art is so I'm sure u know :pleading_face:
> 
> Additionally, thank you to Rose who provided me with such wonderful baking insigh for this one shot. All the pastry and baking knowledge you see was consulted from them! Have a happy holidays, everyone! 420blazeit69


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